(Usual disclaimers apply)
With a thundering roar the steam train arrived at our station. I was waiting on the platform with Irene my wife.
"There he is!", she said and rushed over to a young man who was stepping down from a Second Class carriage. My heavily pregnant wife embraced our weekend guest and then brought him over to me.
"James, this is Nicky".
"Hello, Nick".
I extended my hand and was rewarded with a firm handshake and a devastating smile. Nick was 19 years old but his small build made him look much younger. Years of war rationing had had its effect on his generation.
We found Nick's suitcase and climbed into the Model A Ford. Soon we arrived at Roseneath Cottage.
Nick looked around and made the usual polite comments about the decor which pleased Irene.
Later, during dinner, our young guest talked about his work as a civil servant. His work sounded incredibly boring unlike my own. I was a history teacher at the local college.
The next morning I offered to show Nick around the school. He fell into step beside me as we walked down the tree-lined avenue which led to the college.
It was the long summer holidays so the place was deserted. I showed him the library, gymnasium and assembly hall. Nick seemed quite impressed.
"But where is your classroom?", he asked?
I took him down the corridor and into the bright and airy room.
"This is where I try and teach them history", I said deprecatingly.
"Remembering all those dates", Nick said, pulling a face.
I picked up the rattan cane and scythed it through the air.
"If all else fails I can beat it into them".
"You don't mean that", Nick said with a frown.
I'd been a teacher long enough to learn that The Stick was next to useless as a teaching aid.
"No of course not", I replied. "But, if a boy disrupts a class I bend him over a desk and stripe his tail for him. It only takes a minute and then the class settles down with no more interruptions".
"I received my share of beatings at school", Nick said. "Even when I was Sixth Former, nearly 17 years old but I deserved it". He glanced at the length of rattan in my hand. "We respected a teacher who caned hard".
I seized the opportunity. "That's one thing which worries me - whether I cane hard enough. The boys seldom react". I looked at my guest. "It's a lot to ask, but I don't suppose you'd take one stroke and tell me how I measure up?"
He frowned.
I apologised. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suggested it".
"No, it's not that". He glanced down at the floor. "I told you a pack of lies. I was never beaten at school. During a mass whacking, I -- I hid in the toilets until it was all over". He looked much younger than his 19 years. "I lost friends because of my cowardice. I still feel guilty about that".
There was a long silence. I said, softly: "Then take your beating now and the slate will be wiped clean".
"Yes". His voice was little more than a whisper.
Nick took off his sports coat and bent right over until his fingers were touching his toes. I'd heard that his school insisted on boys assume this more submissive position for a beating. I looked at the taut outlines of his bottom and noted the stretched fabric of his thin cotton trousers.
"I think we'd better make it six", I said trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
"Yes, Sir". Nick sounded resigned, compliant.
I laid into that tightly stretched backside with a ferocity which surprised me. It was not that I disliked Nick but I was determined to punish him. After each stroke he groaned loudly. The fourth struck the tender flesh of his under-bum. He howled like a wounded animal and jumped up in the air, his hands frantically clutched his sore mounds.
I looked into his tear-stained face.
"A million or more cane strokes must have descended upon the bottoms of schoolboys over the years. I have thrashed many a thirteen year old lad who has taken his stripes with more dignity than you have. You called yourself a coward. I think you might be right".
The youth turned his back on me. He undid his braces, allowing his trousers to fall to the floor. His underpants soon followed.
"Do it", he muttered and bent over again, offering me his bare buttocks. I respected his act of complete submission.
I pushed his shirt-tails up, exposing his pale, slender shanks. Each globe was crisscrossed with four painful-looking raised welts. My hands lingered on his hot flesh, gently massaging out the hurt. He gasped as the fine line between pain and pleasure was crossed. He unclenched his buttocks allowing me to see inside his hairless crease and its small puckered anus. With the tip of my finger I gently caressed his secret opening, brushing my finger over it, again and again.
Then I stood back and tapped his buttocks with the rattan before unleashing the hardest cut yet. His legs buckled as the full force of the pain seared through his taut hemispheres. He quickly regained his position and did not utter a sound.
I rewarded him with a further gentle massage.
"Last one", I said.
The cane cracked down on his waiting buttocks. The thin white line it left in its wake quickly filled into an angry-looking weal. He shuddered but remained in position.
"Up you get, Nick".
Slowly, he stood upright. I caught a glimpse of his erection before he quickly pulled his clothing up.
"Is that how you do it with all the boys?" His voice was shaky.
"Of course not. But then, they always keep their shorts up".
"I need to go the toilet", he said. I escorted him to the nearest one. I remained in earshot and was rewarded with a groan when his tortured flesh touched the cold lavatory seat. There were the usual noises and my nose wrinkled at his smells. Then I heard him spit on his hand and smiled at the rustling noises he made while he masturbated. It took only a few strokes before he half-shouted 'Yes!'. I could well imagine his healthy young penis spurting a load of male-seed and knew the sensation would be his best, ever.
Silently, I walked back to the classroom where, a short time later, Nick joined me.
"Feeling better?" I asked.
"Oh, yes!", was his heartfelt reply.
"Well, we better get back. Lunch will be ready".
Back at Roseneath Cottage, Irene served us Shepherd's Pie. Resting his bottom covered with those fat cane weals on a hard kitchen chair, must have really pained him. I saw him grimace several times as he shifted from one throbbing cheek to the other, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position.
Our meal was interrupted when a friend called in to tell Irene that an elderly widow my wife had befriended had been taken ill.
"I must go to her". Irene said. "Will you two be all right without me"?
"Of course", I replied. Nick nodded his boyish head.
We did the dishes. I washed and my guest dried.
Afterwards, we sat on the Chesterfield. I pretended to glance at a magazine while Nick never took his eyes off me. I suppose I wasn't all that badlooking in a rugged kind of way, for a 35-year-old, that is.
"Can I tell you something?", my 19-year-old devotee asked.
"Certainly".
"This morning when you .. uh .. touched me back there ... "
"You mean when the tip of my finger caressed your anus?"
He blushed. "Yes". He looked at the floor. "I wondered if you were going to bum me, that's all".
"Did you want me to do that ?"
"Yes! With all my heart. Except, at the time I was busting to go to the toilet". He blushed again.
"And have you ever done this .. thing .. with anyone else ?"
"No".
"I see". I looked at him. "Do you still want me to ... ?"
"Yes!"
"You realise that the act is against the law. If we get caught we could go to prison for years"?
Not for the first time I thought of the anomaly which allowed a schoolmaster to beat another male's buttocks causing serious hurt while not allowing him to make love to that same part of his anatomy. Quite right, when the male was a child but Nick was 19 and old enough to fight for his country.
Irene had suspended marital relations for the duration of the pregnancy so I was horny beyond endurance. I decided to take him up on his offer.
"Let's go back to the school. It will be more private there".
I took him into the boarding annexe where a dozen country boys lived during the term. We walked along the corridors until we reached the dormitory. There was a cubicle which was home for the prefect who supervised the boys. The incumbent was a handsome youth named Vickers. I told Nick about him.
"How does he keep them in line ?"
"With the strap on the miscreant's backside. I'm told he gives such ferocious hidings he reduces even tough farm lads to tears".
I looked at my younger companion.
"Are you quite sure you want to do this?"
"Yes!"
Nick removed his clothing and knelt on the bed.
I admired the stripes I'd slashed into his firm buttocks as I undid my buttons, unleashing my swollen member. I positioned it against his nether opening after liberally coated my pulsating shaft with petroleum jelly. Then, Nick pushed back, engulfing me inside his hot, tight tunnel which felt like it was lined with the finest velvet. I savoured the sensation for a moment but then began thrusting. Many minutes later, my balls started to churn. The face which flashed into my mind as my warm seed flooded Nick's bowels was that of the young prefect Vickers.
Vickers! How could my mind betray me like that? Of course I secretly lusted after the youth but that feeling had been safely locked away until the intimacy with Nick brought it, unbidden, to the surface. I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself.
Nick returned from cleaning himself up. He got dressed again.
"Hope I wasn't too rough?"
"No! That was great". He looked at me with shining eyes.
"Nick, I want you to do something for me".
I reached into a drawer and handed him the leather strap.
"I need you to give me a hard thrashing. As expiation for a guilt".
"If it's because of what we just did ..", he began, concern creeping into his voice.
"No, no", I interrupted. "Something quite different. Will you do it?"
"Yes".
I slipped down my trousers and underpants and lay down on the bed with several pillows pushing my firm, taut buttocks up in the air. After a moment's hesitation, Nick laid into me with a will. His strength surprised me. Time itself was measured by the rise and fall of the leather. My mind was free of everthing except the hurt being inflicted on my backside. My blazing mounds seemed to be swelling under the force of the lash. The hiding got harder and harder. Nick seemed to have superhuman strength. My buttocks throbbed and burned as I squirmed after each hard lick. After an age, scalding tears flooded my eyes. Nick seemed to sense that penance had been paid and the thrashing ceased.
Gentle fingers caressed my scarlet orbs, soothing the fiery hurt. His finger stroked my anal opening inquiringly.
"Yes", I muttered, answering the unasked question.
I heard Nick's buttons being ripped open and then felt his nob press against my virgin sphincter. I relaxed and he pushed into me until I felt his nuts brush against my cheeks. It felt like I had been ripped open by a telegraph pole. Just as I started to get used to the feel of his monster penis filling my chute, he started moving. Long, hard strokes that made me whimper.
The relentless assault on my nether regions continued for many more minutes. I went beyond pain into that half-delirium state of pure orgiastic pleasure. My own penis swelled. At exactly the same moment as Nick's manhood sprayed his seed inside my fundament, my own member gave me the most exquisite sensation. This time, it was Nick's handsome face which flashed before my eyes.
All too soon we were at that draughty railway station again, putting dear Nick on the train back to his city. He promised to visit again soon. I could hardly wait!